


Spectacles

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, can era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: The story of how Dutchy got his glasses and became friends with Specs.





	Spectacles

Dutchy was angry. He was also scared. There was a test, and nobody had bothered to warn him about it. The lodging house wasn’t school, after all. Being a Newsie meant dirt. It meant hunger, and cold, and sleeping on the street when the headlines were especially bad, but testing was one indignity they got spared.

It was awful. The lady from Children’s Aide made them all line up. There was a chart on the wall, with letters that Dutchy didn’t recognize, but that was hardly unusual, considering Dutchy couldn’t recognize the letters in his own name. His palms were sweating by the time his turn came, and he thought that he might throw up. They made him cover his left eye with a wooden spoon, and he tried to obey and point in the correct directions like the other boys had.

Confirmation of his failure came a few days later, in the form of a pair of spectacles that old Kloppman bestowed on him like they were a prize. The boys laughed, and took turns trying them on, but by the next morning they were Dutchy’s own, perched on the bridge of his nose as he pretended to scan the headlines at the circulation desk.

“Like looking through a window that just got washed, hey Dutch?” Specs draped himself around Dutchy from behind, and Dutchy relaxed just a little. Everybody liked Specs. He was funny. Nobody went searching for knowledge he was missing, or ways in which he was inadequate.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody wash a window.” Dutchy grinned, proud of his joke. It wasn’t that far from the truth, neither. Old Kloppman had enough to do keeping away fleas and roaches. The windows weren’t so important.

“This is how I had to read, before I got mine,” Specs continued, shoving the paper right up to his nose to demonstrate. “See? That ain’t no good. For one thing, I dripped snot all over the papes in the winter. For another, the letters was still blurry.”

Dutchy looked down at his own stack of papers. The letters still didn’t mean anything to him, but they were different than they’d been before, sharper. Maybe he’d learn how to use them one day, if he ever stopped being stupid. The glasses weren’t a bad step.

“You’re awfully quiet, huh?” Specs went on, and Dutchy got a sinking feeling.

“I’m overwhelmed. See, I never knew how ugly you was before today,” he said quickly, then hastened to go on, trying to think of something funny to say before Specs got mad, “You might not be so bad on your own. It’s those dumb glass contraptions on your face.”

Specs shoved Dutchy away, but it was a friendly shove, the kind that made a guy stumble a bit rather than the kind that made a guy fall on his face.

“You can start fires with ‘em,” Specs said amiably. “Lit a cigarette with mine once. I’ll show you how later.”


End file.
